BooksBarbecue
Back THE MAILMAN Save as PDF
Chapters (57)
  1. DEDICATION
  2. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55

David quickly locked the screen door, shut the real door and pulled the curtains, still grinning. The mailman was getting pretty damned desperate. He looked like hell, and he was even delivering mail in the daytime. They had the bastard on the ropes now.

There was a knock at the door. “Mr. Adams!”

David said nothing, did not move.

Another knock. “Mr. Adams!”

David did not respond.

“I know you’re in there,” the mailman said. He knocked again, loudly, more forcefully. “Mr. Adams? I regret to inform you that you are in violation of federal statute. Since you do not have a post-office box or drawer, you are required by law to have either a mailbox or mail slot at your place of residence so that mail can be properly delivered. If you do not have a mailbox or mail slot, you are interfering with the daily operation of the federal government and, as such, can be prosecuted.”

David smiled. There was a hard edge to the mailman’s voice and more than a hint of desperation.

“I know you’re in there,” the mailman repeated. His voice took on a sly tempting quality. “I have things here that I know you’d like to see. Darla’s last letter. A letter from her lover. This is good mail today, Mr. Adams. Good mail.”

David said nothing, though he wanted to scream at the son of a bitch; remained unmoving, though he wanted to attack. He heard the mailman angrily throw the letters on the stoop and stalk off. A moment later, he heard the start of a car’s engine and then a decreasing purr as the car pulled away. David opened the door, opened the curtains, breathed deeply, feeling good.

It was only a matter of time.

52

Doug and Mike and Tegarden sat silently on the lone bench in front of Bayless. From this vantage point, they could see most of the town’s business section, and for the past hour they had watched as the mailman had driven up and down the street, desperately trying to find a place to deliver mail. All of the businesses had disposed of their mailboxes or blocked off their mail slots, and most of them had put up signs, some elaborately hand-painted on posterboard by wives and children, some banner-printed by home computer, some crudely scrawled on cardboard:

NO MAIL ON BOARD

ONE LETTER CAN RUIN YOUR WHOLE DAY

I WON’T TOUCH A LETTER UNLESS YOU PRY IT INTO MY COLD DEAD FINGERS

MAIL IS NOT HEALTHY FOR CHILDREN AND OTHER LIVING THINGS

MAIL SUCKS

The mailman’s behavior had become increasingly frantic as he darted from shop to shop, gas station to office, his driving increasingly crazy as he sped for the fourth, fifth, and sixth times over the same section of street. Observed from this vantage point, he seemed like a trapped and doomed bug trying to escape from the lethal confines of a killing jar.